Remember Remember
by Syblime
Summary: 'Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.' Mary meets V in London and they bond over roses.
1. Chapter 1

_Usual disclaimer, I don't own either of these amazing shows, the storylines, the speech or the characters. I am merely mixing them together. However, all mistakes are mine!_

_Enjoy :)_

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Mary stepped out from Aunt Rosamund's London apartment, her black heeled shoes clicking against the dark pavement as she headed back to Grantham house. Her family had opened it up for her whilst she dealt with some more arrangements for the wedding, although they had all opted to stay in Yorkshire. She could understand why. The city was no longer the buzzing Capital it once was. It was mundane, controlled and bland. The once vibrant clubs, pubs and bars that had spilt colour and fun onto the streets had been banned and shut down one by one. Theatres and cinemas had all had their opening times restricted, and had then slowly faded into nothingness as the only things they were permitted to show was Norsefire party drivel. There was barely anything to do at all, yet Mary felt a strong sense of relief to be away from the rest of the family for a few days. Her mother, Grandmother and Isobel were organising this wedding as if it were a military operation. Matthew, the darling he was, kept asking if he could help, but every time he was shooed away with only a brief apologetic glance at Mary, who had been thrust into the midst of the chaos. Here she was spared that, if only for a short time. She walked slowly down the street glancing into various shops that still held the tiny pieces of old London that were still permitted under the regime. She stopped as she came to a flower shop. Isobel had seemingly won the battle over the bouquet, insisting that the ancient father of her butler made it up. Mr Molesley senior had apparently won awards for his roses that were to be the centre piece. Looking into the shop window Mary couldn't see any better flowers, but she still felt downhearted at having another decision made for her. Maybe that was just her stubborn nature. Occasionally she envied Sybil's spontaneity and courage that enabled her to defy the regime. At least she now had control over her own life, even if the whole family had to bear the shame of her marriage to her Irish boyfriend. Mary sighed and walked further down the street, ignoring the blearing speakers before turning down the alleyway she always used as a shortcut to Grantham House. Abruptly turning a corner she bumped into a tall man with a moustache wearing a coarse coat.

"Excuse me miss."

"I'm sorry I didn't see you." She replied, trying to walk past.

"In a hurry, are we?" He stopped her. "It's after curfew, you know."

"I know. I was just on my way home." Mary glance sideways as another man joined them.

"Perhaps you'd like to come home with us instead?" He tried reaching for her.

"You must be mad!" She flinched away, stroking her engagement ring for additional courage.

"I am. I'm in the grip of madness." He edged closer again, backing her almost against the hard, brick wall. Mary, not allowing herself to be taken by them, slapped the man hard. He staggered back a few steps and looked up at his companion. "We can get her for assault now, as well as disobeying the curfew."

"That we can." The taller of the two men held up the Norsefire badge.

"You're fingermen?" Mary raised a perfect eyebrow in surprised. "They're not this randy in Yorkshire"

"Not as good at their job, neither, from what we've heard." Both men were advancing on her now. Hot breath curling its way around her, causing her to panic in a way she hadn't since the night Kemal forced himself on her.

"Help, please someone. Help!" She cried. She screwed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out what now seemed inevitable, but nothing happened. Only the sounds of a fight reached her, before a sharp blow to the head left her unconscious.

~X~

Mary awoke to find herself with a blinding headache in a room full of books, unordered and piled high. She sat up slowly, trying to remember what had happened. As she was thinking a silent figure moved into the room. At the creak of the door Mary looked up, wincing at the pain in her head, but observing the man dressed head to toe in black, with the exception of a white Guy Fawkes mask.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask."

"Yes, I can see that."

"Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking on the paradox of asking a masked man who he is. But if you will permit me, I will suggest the character of this dramatis persona. Voila!" He stepped forward dramatically, swishing his black cape to the sides, and emphasising his greeting. "In view a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition." He paused, his anger or excitement forcing him to stop and carve a V into the door with one of the array of knives tied around him. Breathing heavily he continued. "The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you and you may call me V."

"My, my. Granny would have fun with you." Mary's cool, calm composure competing with the mask concealing the face of her rescuer.

He giggled. "Now, to whom, may I ask, am I speaking?"

"Mary Crawley."

"Of course you are. Lady Mary Crawley, if we add in some 'decadence' as they would say nowadays."

"Are we acquainted?"

"No. It's simply that I like God, do not play with dice and do not believe in coincidence. I've seen the date for your wedding and I approve. Now, are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I think so. Thanks to you I suppose."

"Would you like some breakfast? Sweet tea?"

"What, for frayed nerves." She let out a dry laugh.

"If that's what you'd like."

"Not especially."

"Mary, if there's anything I can do to help…"

"There's nothing. But thank you. You've been so kind to me. Why is that?"

"Because of what I plan to do, on your wedding day. Justice of sorts. But I fear it may dampen your special day, although to me it could not be more special."

"The Gunpowder plot? When Edith told me I thought she must have dreamt it."

"You didn't see my speech last year?"

"No. I tend to avoid the TV. It's easier to do in Yorkshire. They're less worried up there. In fact they're quite sympathetic. That's why I was so shocked yesterday to get caught by fingermen."

"Interesting. I've been focusing so much on London, I hadn't considered different areas of the country."

"So you are actually going to do it?"

"Yes."

"You really think that blowing up parliament is going to make this country a better place?"

"There's no certainty, only opportunity."

"I think you can be pretty certain that if anyone does show up, Creedy will black bag every one of them."

"People should not be afraid of their Governments. Governments should be afraid of their people."

"And you're going to make that happen by blowing up a building?"

"The building is a Symbol, as is the act of destroying it. Symbols are given power by people. Alone a Symbol is meaningless, but with enough people blowing up a building can change the world."

"I wish I believed that was possible, but every time I've seen this world change it's always been for the worse."

"Well, I can't disagree with you. I've seen enough pain and suffering but yet I still have hope. Hope for a new dawn, a new age of government and an end to that suffering."

"Sybil would love you."

"But you don't?" There was something in her voice that betrayed her.

"I can't." Mary sighed despondently. "When Sybil announced her plans to marry Tom she split the family, both figuratively and politically. Dad was often busy with the estate and he was a party member, so our butler at the time was more like a father to us, especially me. Carson had looked after us as we grew up and taught us well. He was a firm believer in doing things properly and would have stood by dad through thick and thin. He didn't approve of Sybil's choice. Tom is Irish and, like you, is all for radical change. He wanted to overthrow government and gain equality for the people. Carson took it badly. He never said it, but I knew he felt like he'd let dad down. Anyway, that was just before the outbreak of Spanish flu. Carson was one of its victims. Luckily they found a cure just as my mum caught it, so she survived. I'm sorry that he won't be at my wedding and so desperately sad, but I'm also happy that he won't see your revolution because he would never have approved. In fact the shock would have probably killed him, if the flu already hadn't."

"Mary, may I show you something?"

Mary nodded her acceptance and let V lead her through his home and into another room. "Who is she?" she asked, looking at the glorious picture hung on the wall.

"Someone I miss every day of my life, despite never meeting her, and yet the inspiration for all that I do."

"What happened to her?"

"She died. The authorities killed her."

"Oh." A heavy silence was left hanging in the air. "Is that why you wear a mask? To protect yourself?" It was a question personal to both of them.

"Partially. Mary, there is a face beneath this mask, but it's not me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it or the bones beneath that. You wear a mask for so long you forget who you were beneath it."

"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."

"James Baldwin." V commented seamlessly. Mary shrugged.

"The roses are beautiful."

"Scarlet Carsons; her favourite."

"Carson?"

"Yes."

"V, may I have one for my bouquet?" Mary asked.

"What other flowers have you got?"

"More roses. I've got Manchester Guardian Angels and Lady Mary's. The scarlet would look beautiful, and somehow I would have Carson with me."

"You may take as many as you want. Come back, a few days before the 5th."

"Thank you." She paused. "It will feel strange, dancing on your day of revolution."

"A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having."

Mary breathed a laugh. "I should probably go."

"Are you sure?"

"If you'd met my family you'd know that a wedding takes a great deal more planning than the destruction of a building; even if it does change the world."

V laughed. "Very well. I will show you out." V took her back through the shadow gallery, to the lift. "Good luck Mary."

"You too V, and thank you."


	2. Epilogue

Mary leaned into Matthew's shoulder and looked up into the dark sky. The day had been perfect, with a clear sun and few clouds. The ceremony had gone swimmingly, the dinner fantastically and the evening beautifully. The months of organisation had paid off and the wait was over. A number of guests had commented on the length of time it had taken the couple to finally make it to the alter, but what mattered more to Mary was the number of people who had commented on how beautiful her flowers were, even if they said that they looked like the roses used by the London terrorist. Her Mother and Grandmother had been only too happy to let her change the arrangement, probably because it got them one up on Isobel, who Matthew helped convince. Mary had won her battle and was now feeling contented and extremely happy.

But V was right. Her mood was dampened slightly by the imminent trouble in London. She kept wondering throughout the day whether the grand old building, that her own home was modelled on, was still standing. Had V carried out his Vendetta?

At the strike of twelve, Thomas lit the first of the fireworks and a chill struck Mary, sending a shiver down her spine. Matthew curled his arm further round her, assuming that the midnight air of Yorkshire was making her cold. But instead of turning into his embrace, she turned to look south.

"Are you alright?" Matthew asked.

"He's done it." Mary voiced her thoughts aloud.

"Who?"

"V."

"The terrorist? How can you know?"

"I met him. And I can feel it." Mary smiled.

"What?" Matthew remained confused by his wife's strange behaviour.

"Freedom." She whispered. "But if you tell Granny I said so, I will denounce you as a liar."

If Matthew had even tried to reply it would have been drowned out by the loud music and fireworks on the opposite end of the Downton lawn. The spectacular display ending a turbulent chapter in both their lives and unknown to the rest of the wedding party, it rivalled a display in London that ended a turbulent chapter in the history of the country.

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_'Are you like a crazy person?' No doubt you are wondering!_

_ But I must add one quick thing with the timing of this, because the Spanish flu happens during the reign of the Norsefire Party & they use it to once more strenghten their position. It does not occur at the same time as St. Marys and the others._

_Also a quick thank you to the two people who made me watch V for vendetta in the first place._

_Sooo, what did you think?_


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